


The Four Times Anakin Held Obi-Wan’s Hand (And The One Time He Didn’t)

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This, then, is Obi-Wan and Anakin:<br/>They are closer than friends. Closer than brothers. Though Obi-Wan is sixteen standard years Anakin’s elder, they have become men together. Neither can imagine life without the other.<br/>The war has forged their two lives into one."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Four Times Anakin Held Obi-Wan’s Hand (And The One Time He Didn’t)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swsquadleadr327](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swsquadleadr327/gifts).



** one. **

He is ten years old, at the tail-end of his first year of Jedi training. Things have been rough; the adjustment period from leaving Tatooine (and his mother) has been hard and he has been difficult —— and it seems, a lot of the times, the frustration he feels is directed at Obi-Wan, simply because Obi-Wan is his Master and he’s constantly  _there_. But there are quiet times, too; like now. Now, they are sat side by side, backs against the building, heads tipped up towards the sky. Stargazing, lately, is the only way for Anakin to calm down —— so after some begging, Obi-Wan agreed. His Master’s steady breathing is the only sound that registers, and Anakin tears his gaze away from the stars to look up at the man.

“Master?” he says, and Obi-Wan glances down at him, brows raising. Anakin finds then that there is no question to be asked, but rather than shrug it off, he simply holds up his hand, indicating for Obi-Wan to do the same. He does, though there is some apprehension (Anakin has  _possibly_  played some pranks before - but he’ll never tell). Anakin lines their hands up before settling his palm against Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan’s hand is much larger than his (he has to remind himself that his Master is much  _older_  than him to keep the swell of discouragement from rising up), and Anakin feels, not for the first time, very small in the scheme of the galaxy. His master’s fingers curl down, hand closing into a loose fist around Anakin’s own hand.  


“You’ll grow.” he says, as though reading Anakin’s mind (Anakin wouldn’t be surprised), and neither make an effort to move their hands, even as their gazes turn back to the stars.  


** two. **

He is twelve years old, and has just constructed the pieces for his lightsaber. He had been wary of this part - holding Obi-Wan’s lightsaber had not been comfortable in his grasp; it had been too large for a pair of small hands (he has grown since then, however - a growth spurt had been kind to him a few months prior to today). But as he constructs, he finds there’s nothing to worry about —— this is for him, for his hands only. He doesn’t have the crystal yet — he’ll get that soon enough, but he proudly displays his handiwork to Obi-Wan anyway, and there’s a sense of pride in Obi-Wan’s eyes that has his face splitting into a grin.

“Well done, padawan.” he says, and his hand clasps Anakin fondly on the shoulder. Anakin’s hand lifts out of reflex, and closes over Obi-Wan’s. He still has a way to go before he closes in on his Master in terms of height, but the space between them seems so much closer than just two years ago. His fingers flex on Obi-Wan’s hand after a moment, and he pulls away — he has a lightsaber to finish.   


** three.  **

He is nineteen years old, and he has just lost his arm from the elbow down. He isn’t ashamed - no, he is angry (he has been angry nearly constantly as of late). But Obi-Wan visits him and Anakin doesn’t look him in the eye. “Anakin,” he says gently, but his gaze stays turned away. He hasn’t told him everything yet, nor does he plan on doing such (he’s ashamed of his actions on Tatooine — he will take it to the grave). “Ana _kin_.” he says again, and the tone in his voice finally gives cause to meet his gaze. 

All he sees in Obi-Wan’s gaze is concern. He disobeyed the mission, he is a  _murderer_ , and he feels as though all he’s done as of late is let Obi-Wan down, but all he sees is concern and the love that has formed between them over the last ten years. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt better.” he says simply, truthfully. It is left at that, a heavy silence falling over them. Finally, Obi-Wan’s hand comes to rest atop the new (durasteel) replacement for his lost forearm, and Anakin tenses. But finally, he turns his hand over, and with fingers he doesn’t quite trust to be gentle, he closes his hand around Obi-Wan’s, letting the heat from his Master’s hand warm the cold steel.  


** four. **

He is twenty, and the war has been raging on for what feels like an eternity, but the reality of it is far less (though still enough that Anakin cannot imagine his life any other way). Things have changed; Anakin is a Jedi Knight now, with a  _padawan_ of his own. But he and Obi-Wan are still a team - THE team, and even the ceremony hasn’t separated them. He and Obi-Wan, as per usual, are side-by-side, backs resting against the wall of the speeder. Ahsoka is on the bench across from them, and idle chatter is being made.

The silence, however, is louder than the idle talk, and Anakin is bored. He grins at Ahsoka, who raises her brow, then nudges Obi-Wan with his elbow, holding his hand out, palm up. Obi-Wan sighs, but there’s a hint of fondness written into his features that he can’t quite hide (nor does Anakin think he’s really  _trying_  to), and he lets his palm rest against Anakin’s, their fingers intertwining. Ahsoka’s brow raises further.

“Is this some Jedi thing I don’t know about?”  


Anakin is silent, but his grin only widens. 

“Shut up,” Obi-Wan says, and Anakin laughs.   


** five. **

He is twenty-two, and he hates Obi-Wan. There is a fire within him that matches the fire around him; sweat pours on his brow, and he can see it glistening on his former Master’s, as well. They are matched blow-for-blow, each hit thrown is deflected with the opposing swing. He is frustrated, and wishes, simply, that Obi-Wan would  _give up_  and just die (or leave - go somewhere, meditate,  _leave him be_ ). But he knows Obi-Wan as well as he knows himself, and he knows that the man won’t be going anywhere until this fight is finished.

An arm thrusts forward, and he is un-surprised that his former Master meets him for the blow. Hands close together, power coursing, he is reminded of simpler times — ones where he would have gladly taken Obi-Wan’s hand and ended this war between them. But that was then; this was  _now_ , and now he wants to destroy the man before him, because he is something getting in the way (he did this himself; he disrupted the peace of Anakin’s new Empire before it could even settle) and he has turned his back on him and the very love between them.

He wishes it could end here, hands close, eyes locked onto one another, but he knows better, and as they’re flung back, his back smacking against the console, he knows that this has only just begun. But he is on his feet, springing forward, and the battle continues. 

It continues through the heat & the flicks of lava scorching their clothing. It continues within them both. It continues as Obi-Wan finds level ground on a beach of black sand.

It ends when Anakin takes the final leap, when his former Master’s lightsaber cuts through his legs, his arm, and leaves him scrambling for purchase with a durasteel hand that cannot quite find its place in the black sand.

"You were the chosen one! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them. You were to bring balance to the force, not leave it in darkness.”

And Anakin hates him now more than he would have ever thought possible. “I HATE YOU!” is screamed out of a throat that already feels scorched, a voice that doesn’t feel as though it belongs to him.

“You were my  _brother_ , Anakin! I  _loved_  you.”  


_Loved_.

And as fire catches, as Obi-Wan walks away, Anakin makes one final, desperate grab —— but durasteel fingers cannot hold (they have held Obi-Wan’s hand - in good times and bad) and he lets out a cry of anguish. 

He is not dead. But he wishes he could be.


End file.
